Chapter Seven #2
“But now,” Sarah continued, her voice brightening, “it’s like watching the old Gunner come back to life. That spark in his eye, the way he carries himself… It’s good to see. This town, it has a way of healing people, you know?”
Aubrey nodded, her mind whirring as she guided her horse along the snowy trail.
Sarah’s words echoed in her thoughts, painting a picture of two Gunners—the charismatic man she’d met in Atlanta and the broken one who’d slipped away in the morning.
Her heart clenched, realizing the possibility that the real Gunner might be a blend of both, complex and layered.
Lost in her musings, Aubrey barely registered the shift in conversation until Eli’s booming voice cut through her reverie.
“C’mon, Gunner! You can’t hold out on us forever. When are you gonna grace us with that famous jambalaya of yours?”
Gunner chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re relentless, man.”
“Famous jambalaya?” Aubrey asked, her chef’s instincts kicking in.
Looking back over his shoulder, Gunner’s gaze met hers. “It’s my grandma’s recipe,” he said, his voice warm. “But I’m biased to how good it is.”
“Don’t let him fool you,” Eli interjected. “It’s the best damn jambalaya this side of the Mississippi.”
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” she called out, her voice carrying a playful challenge. “Let’s see if your culinary skills match your musical talents.”
Gunner’s lips quirked into a half smile. “Is that a dare, Miss Hale?”
“You bet it is,” Aubrey replied, a smirk playing on her lips. “Impress me with your dinner, if you can.”
He chuckled again, the sound low and rich. “Challenge accepted, darlin’.”
For the rest of their ride, and then as they guided their horses back toward the ranch, Aubrey’s mind whirled. What was she doing? Wasn’t she supposed to be avoiding him? Yet here she was, practically inviting him into her world.
“Don’t get too excited,” she said, when the trail brought their horses nearer to one another, trying to mask the emotions flaring within her. “I’ve got pretty high standards, you know.”
Gunner steered his horse closer toward her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Aubrey.”
The use of her name sent a tremor through her. “Just remember,” she whispered, “I’m not easily impressed.”
His eyes searched hers, filled with an intensity that made her breath catch. “Maybe that’s exactly why I want to try.”
* * *
A couple hours later, the aroma of sautéing onions and bell peppers filled the farmhouse kitchen as Gunner expertly wielded a wooden spoon, his movements smooth and assured.
He inhaled deeply, savoring the familiar scents that reminded him of lazy Sunday afternoons spent with his grandmother.
The sizzle of andouille sausage hitting the hot pan brought a smile to his face.
He’d dropped Sarah and Emily back off at home before heading to the grocery store.
His eyes roamed over the fresh ingredients spread across the butcher-block island—plump tomatoes, fragrant garlic and a colorful array of spices.
His fingers itched to start chopping and dicing, to lose himself in the rhythmic motions of cooking.
It felt good to be creating something again, even if it wasn’t music.
The sound of laughter drifted in from the living room, and soon the kitchen was filled with the boisterous energy of his friends. Willow perched on a barstool while Aubrey leaned against the counter, her eyes sparkling with amusement at something Eli had said.
“Smells amazing in here,” Jaxon commented, inhaling deeply.
Gunner chuckled, tossing a dish towel over his shoulder. “My grandma’s recipe never disappoints.”
“I agree, it smells delicious,” Charly teased, nudging Aubrey with her elbow. “Looks like you’ve got some competition in the kitchen.”
Aubrey rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “Please. I could cook circles around this country boy.”
“Is that another challenge, darlin’?” Gunner drawled, raising an eyebrow. His gaze locked with Aubrey’s, and for a moment, the air between them crackled with unspoken tension.
Willow cleared her throat, breaking the moment. “As fun as a cook-off sounds, we’ve got more pressing matters. Like why my socks are still damp after two cycles in the dryer.” She turned to Eli and Jaxon. “Our dryer has been acting up for weeks. You guys know anything about appliance repair?”
Jaxon puffed out his chest. “I’m basically a mechanical genius. Lead the way, milady.”
Eli just rolled his eyes.
As the group filed out of the kitchen, Gunner found his gaze drawn to Aubrey. She lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable. He wondered what she was thinking, if she ever thought about that night in Atlanta. The memory of her soft skin and breathy sighs haunted him still.
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. He had a lot to make up for, and a home-cooked meal was just the beginning.
“So,” Aubrey began, “where’d you learn to cook like this? Didn’t peg you for a culinary expert.”
Gunner glanced over his shoulder, a slow smile spreading across his face. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
Aubrey snorted, but Gunner spotted the slight upturn of her lips.
“Enlighten me then,” she said. “What’s the secret to your kitchen prowess?”
“My grandmother, actually. Spent a lot of time with her growing up. That woman could make a feast out of thin air.”
Aubrey took a seat on the stool. “Yeah? What was she like?”
“Picture a five-foot-nothing spitfire with a wooden spoon in one hand and sheet music in the other.” He chuckled. “She’d have me up at dawn, picking fresh tomatoes from her garden. Said a man who couldn’t feed himself wasn’t worth his salt.”
“Sounds like quite a woman,” she murmured.
He nodded, his eyes meeting hers. “She was. Taught me more than just cooking. Said music and food both came from the soul. If you didn’t put your whole heart into it, folks could taste the difference.”
Aubrey’s eyes softened. “Well,” she said, her voice light, “let’s hope you were paying attention. I’ve got high standards for my jambalaya.”
Gunner’s lips quirked. “Trust me, darlin’.
I aim to exceed ’em.” His hands moved deftly as he diced tomatoes, his knife a blur against the cutting board.
Desperate for her to know him better, he said, “She passed away after I’d just left for Nashville, and that’s when my folks began traveling.
They actually split their time between here and Costa Rica these days. ”
Aubrey’s eyebrows shot up. “Costa Rica? That’s quite a change from Montana.”
He chuckled. “My dad always said he’d retire somewhere without snow. Turns out, he meant it.” He gave her a quick smile. “They come back every summer, though. Stay in our old family home on the east side of town.”
“Must be nice,” she murmured, “having roots like that.”
Gunner glanced up. “It is,” he said softly. “Especially after… Well, the road can get mighty lonely.”
Aubrey cocked her head, and Gunner swore she looked at him like she wanted to reach out, to offer some kind of comfort. Instead, she busied her hands, pulling at the lint on her pants.
“What about you?” Gunner asked, his tone deliberately light. “Got family back in Atlanta?”
Aubrey tensed, her chest tightening. “No, my mom is in Ann Arbor, Michigan, where I grew up with Charly and Willow,” she said after a moment. “She’s a teacher. Third grade.”
“Bet she’s proud as punch of her chef daughter,” Gunner said with a grin.
Aubrey’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “She is. We talk every Sunday evening.” She paused, her voice growing thick with emotion. “I miss her lasagna nights. The way the whole house would smell like garlic and oregano.”
Gunner watched her for a moment, then asked gently, “And your dad? Is he back in Ann Arbor too?”
She shifted on the stool. When she spoke, her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “No. He’s…not in the picture. Hasn’t been since I was eight.”
The kitchen fell silent, save for the bubbling of the jambalaya. Gunner was swallowed up by a mix of empathy and something deeper—a flash of guilt that Aubrey didn’t quite catch. He set down his knife, wiping his hands on a nearby towel.
“Aubrey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried,” he said, taking a step toward her.
She shook her head, still not meeting his eyes. “It’s fine. Ancient history.”
But Gunner wasn’t letting it go. He moved closer, until he was standing just a few feet away from her.
“No, it’s not fine.” He reached out on instinct to touch her arm, then thought better of it.
“I’m sorry, Aubrey,” he continued. “Not just for bringing up painful memories, but for…for leaving you that night in Atlanta. I was a coward, and I hurt you. I’ve regretted it every day since. ”
Aubrey’s arms crossed over her chest. But this time, she didn’t deny their night together, didn’t brush him off. “I don’t know what you want from me, Gunner,” she said.
“I want a chance,” he told her. “A chance to make things right, to show you who I really am. If you’ll let me.”
She huffed. “Friends?”
He’d take that for now. “Yes, friends.”
“I can do that,” she finally said.
Gunner’s heart was pounding so loudly, he was sure Aubrey could hear it. Her fiery eyes held his, and he could hardly believe it when he found her leaning in, drawn by an invisible force that had pulled them together once before.
Suddenly, the silence ended, shattering the moment. “Good Lord, it smells heavenly in here.” Willow’s voice rang out, followed by the thunderous footsteps of the rest of the group.
Aubrey jerked back, her cheeks flushing as she busied herself with looking at her pants again. Gunner cleared his throat, running a hand through his tousled blond hair.
As everyone crowded around the stove, exclaiming over the aromatic dish, Aubrey snuck a glance at Gunner. He caught her eye, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and she smiled back.
“Alright, folks,” Gunner announced, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go play cards while this simmers for a little while.”
“Yes,” Willow said. “And I’ve got a movie for us later.”
They moved in a chaotic dance, pouring drinks and grabbing cards, heading to the living room. His eyes found Aubrey’s before she headed out of the kitchen. As their gazes met, he felt a silent promise, a question left hanging in the air.
What now? Gunner wondered. Friends, she’d offered. But could they ever just be friends?